


Fractured Psyche

by sadstone_writes



Series: Celestial Steel [1]
Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), Marvel, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Backstory, Eventual Relationships, Fight Scenes, Mentions of Cancer, Mentions of Violence, Nonbinary Character, Other, POV Alternating, Some Humor, Some angst, consider this my official application for the colossus thirst club, mentions of vomit, some pretty gross mutation descriptions, they/them pronouns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:54:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23894161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadstone_writes/pseuds/sadstone_writes
Summary: So, I've liked Colossus from the Deadpool universe for a long-ass time, and I finally made an OC because I love self indulgence during quarantine. This is their backstory and how they came to be at the mansion. This is a long, multi-part fic taking place partly before the events of Deadpool 1 and partly after the events of Deadpool 2 (fic is set in modern day 2020).My OC uses they/them pronouns and are nonbinary, because I never see an OC that is like me in that respect and like I said, self indulgence.
Relationships: Piotr Rasputin & Original Character
Series: Celestial Steel [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1722172
Comments: 7
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

_Police are now engaged in a high speed chase on the interstate involving a pedestrian taxi and a biochemical transport truck that was reportedly hijacked outside of the Belrose Pharmaceutical manufacturing plant, a subsidiary of the Rand Corporation. According to authorities, the truck was reported missing and its driver was found killed in the company loading dock early this morning. It is unknown at this time if the driver of the taxi is aligned with the hijackers -_

Piotr Rasputin’s phone rang and he frowned at the caller ID. With a sigh, and a careful press as to not break any of the screen (again), he picked it up.

“Wade-”

“Hey Chromedome, you busy?” Wade’s voice crowed over the speaker.

In the background, Piotr could hear police sirens and Bollywood music playing over a radio. Piotr had to mute the television just to confirm what he was hearing, and groaned at the realization that yes, it was Wade in the taxi involved in the high speed chase. How Dopinder had been able to keep his license was beyond him.

“Wade, please tell me you had nothing to do with what I am seeing on news.”

“Okay, then I won’t tell you. But just if, y’know, you wanted to take a break from jerking off the other X-Men and come on down here, for funsies, that’d be cool.”

Piotr pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and leaned forward into his knees, causing the coach to groan underneath him. “Wade, we have talked about this. Our agreement was that X-Men would allow X-Force to operate and not get involved unless necessary, doing so otherwise is waste of resources and risks endangering -”

“But this is necessary! Okay, that last time with the mattress stores being a front for mutant cage fighting was my bad, but do you have anything better to do?” Wade sighed into the receiver. “Don’t make me admit that I actually need your help with this.”

“What about Cable or Domino -?”

There was the sound of a struggle and Cable’s voice came onto the phone. “We’re already here, big guy.” Cable said, “and he’s actually right about this one. They’re transporting about a hundred barrels of biochemical material in that truck, and something tells me that whatever roadblock they set up isn’t going to be stopping them.”

“A suicide bomber?” Piotr asked, jumping to his feet at the realization.

“Looks like it.” Cable confirmed. “I’ve only picked up one heat signature in the truck cabin, but there’s movement in the back with all the chemicals. Might be hostages.”

“Give me that -” Wade yelled from the background. There was a sound of a struggle and Wade’s voice came back on. “But, yeah. Aren’t the X-Men all about protecting civilians or some shit?”

“Well yes but -”

“But nothing, get off your shiny metal ass and get over here! Bring NTW too, fun for the whole family.”

He hung up and Piotr groaned, shoving his phone back into his pocket. Ellie and Yukio just happened to be walking by, and stuck their heads in at the sight of their mentor standing in the middle of the room.

“Who was that on the phone?” Yukio asked, pulling Ellie into the room behind her.

“Guess,” came Piotr’s defeated reply. He was torn - for Wade to admit he needed help was a cause for concern all on it’s own, but if this turned out to be a bust, it would be his head on the chopping block.

“I thought that after that mattress store fiasco, the deal was that we let them go out and make a mess as long as they clean it up?” Ellie asked, annoyance evident in her voice.

“It is deal. But this might be bigger mess than they can handle.” Piotr stood and walked back out into the hall, the two girls tailing behind him. He reached the elevator and pressed a button, all three stepping inside the metal interior. Ellie pressed the ‘down’ button and turned to face her mentor. “What about Cable and Domino?”

“Already there.”

“Scott isn’t going to like this.” Yukio quietly said, saying what all three of them were thinking. The de-facto leader of the X-Men, Scott had a bone to pick with Deadpool and had banished him from the grounds of the mansion on more than one occasion. Not that anyone had blamed him, especially with the amount of antics that Deadpool had the habit of getting into. He had been the one to raise the issue of using resources for X-Force missions, and as much as everyone thought it was kind of a dick move for doing so, he had a point.

Piotr grimaced, knowing he was already going to be getting an earful about this later. “I trust Deadpool, when he says he needs help, we help. Sometimes for better or worse. But, we are X-Men, it’s what we do. For better or worse.”

They descended into the basement hangar and Ellie and Yukio split off towards their respective lockers to get changed. Piotr practically lived in his uniform - more practical that way - and went ahead to warm up the jet.

“Have you eaten? Had water?” Piotr asked, calling out to the two trainees. “I brought snacks.”

“We’re good,” replied Ellie, stepping out in her suit and following him into the jet. A look from Piotr and she took a bottle of water from his duffel bag, if only to placate him. Yukio took a granola bar as well, just for good measure. Piotr closed the ramp and hit a button, the ceiling above the jet opening up above them.

“Buckle in.” He cautioned, taking the controls into his hands and thrusting them upwards. The jet soundlessly came to life and took off like a shot into the sky, leaving nothing but an empty spot in the hangar.

It didn’t take long for the jet to reach the interstate, cutting through the clouds and flying over the skyline at an extreme speed.

“There’s the truck,” Ellie called back into the cabin of the jet. “And the taxi.”

“And the police.” Yukio replied. Looking out the front windows, sure enough there was a solid line of police cars blocking the end of the highway, and more that were closely following Dopinder’s taxi.

“Get us in closer.” Piotr said, his phone buzzing in his pocket. He picked it up and held the phone back from his ear as Wade’s voice screamed into the receiver.

“Hey Chrome-rad, glad you could make it, we have a plan. Like, a super awesome, blockbuster action movie plan -” There was a shout and Wade’s voice was cut off and replaced by Cable.

“We’re going to pull up beside of it and disconnect the trailer from it’s cab -”

“Would you stop doing that!” Wade’s voice came back on. “Then Cable’s gonna use the force to try and slow the trailer down to keep it from going boom.”

“It’s not the force, Wade.” Cable groaned in the background.

“Would you two knock it off?” Domino’s voice came on the line. “That leaves the cab. We reckon there’s about 500 yards between the cab and the police blockade. How confident are you in your landings?”

“Landings?” Piotr asked, looking out the window to see Dopinder’s cab speeding up to pull beside the truck.

“Not all of us can exactly take a truck to the face and walk it off. Get in front of the truck and stop it. And uh, Good luck.” She hung up.

From outside the window, Piotr could see Wade’s red-clad body hanging halfway out of Dopinder’s taxi, reaching for the small space between the cab and the trailer. He flung himself out of the open door and onto the walkway, frantically beginning to cut the cables connecting the truck to the trailer.

“ _Bozhe moi._ Ellie, bring us in low and open the ramp.”

The jet lurched as Ellie dropped it down lower, Piotr’s stomach lurching likewise. The ramp opened up, the wind rushing into the cabin and the road stretching open below him.

“The trailer is loose!” Yukio yelled from up in the cabin, her soft voice nearly getting lost in the noise of the wind. “Jump!"

There was a horrid screeching sound - Cable’s telekinesis pulling the trailer backwards in an attempt to slow it down. Saying a quick prayer to whomever happened to be listening, Piotr jumped feet first outside the jet into the air, quickly falling to the earth.


	2. Chapter 2

_“We’re giving you the chance to be a hero. To get out of here and make something of yourself. Give it a thought.”_

It felt like ages since the shadowy agent in the expensive suit had spoken those words to Lane. The words seemed to be on repeat now as Lane’s head lolled on the gurney, the latest round of drugs wearing off and leaving them with a mouth full of cotton. They weren’t sure how much of what had been pumped into their system - part of Lane thought it was better than they didn’t know.

More than anything, it just hurt all over. They supposed that meant it was working. 

Ajax and Angel had quickly made their introductions to Lane, the bruises and a busted lip a signature calling card of the latter while Ajax preferred his own brand of being an insufferable but also terrifying prick. They weren’t sure how long they had been here, but it had been long enough that they had gotten good at picking out their footsteps. 

They were pushing a gurney into the adjacent room, casting shadows on the medical screen as they did so. Plugging in an IV, various machines into another patient (Lane wasn’t sure what they were, patients or prisoners) and giving the usual speech about ‘The Workshop’ as it had come to be called. Making mutants. Heroes. Lane wasn’t so sure anymore. 

Their voices faded, the world went dark as Lane fell back into unconsciousness

“Rise and shine, Lane.”

Before they had a chance to react, their eyelid was being wretched open and a penlight shoved into their field of vision. 

“Dilation normal, no sign of any outward change. Yet.” 

Ajax retracted the light and took some notes on a clipboard, passing it off to Angel who stood at his side. 

“And how are we feeling today? Our new cocktail treating you well?” 

“Great.” Lane responded tonelessly. The residual grogginess was beginning to wear off, and a dull headache was starting to set into their temples. 

“Good. We’ve got some more for you to try, since you’re being such a good girl for us. Isn’t that right, Angel?”

Lane grunted and tried to sit up, their movements limited by the medical restraints that bound them to the gurney. “S’not a girl.” 

Ajax didn’t look up from filling a syringe with some ominously colored liquid. “What was that?”

“I said,” Lane swallowed the dryness in their throat and sat up a bit straighter. Well, as straight as one could while strapped down against their will. “I’m not a girl.”

Ajax chuckled, looking at Lane with his icy blues. He reached out with his free hand and pushed on their forehead, forcing them back onto the bed. “You think we care?” 

He brought up the syringe and depressed the plunger, an arc of the dark liquid spraying near Lane’s face. They gagged at the smell of it - harsh and chemical, like burning hair in liquid form. “I could call you a dog for all I care. Would you like that, little girl? To be called a dog instead?”

Lane wasn’t sure if they were doing anything, all these drugs and ritual beatings that were meant to awaken the latent powers inside them, but at that moment they wanted nothing more than to have it work. To melt his stupid face off, strike him with lightning, force-choke him even. But no, all they could do was glare at Ajax’s grinning face. 

“Hey shitface, they said they weren’t a girl. The least you could do is respect some pronouns up in this bitch.” 

Lane’s eyes shot towards the new voice. Behind the partition they could make out the gurney and the outline of the person on it; a male voice, tired and annoyed, angry even. Lane had lost count of how many times they had rehashed this argument with Ajax, but this was the first time someone else had stepped in. 

Ajax sighed, his grin melted away, and nodded his head towards Angel. Angel cracked her knuckles beside him and strode behind the partition; the sound of a fist hitting flesh and a small whimper followed. Lane winced at the sound, having been on the receiving end of Angel’s punches more than once during their time at the farm. 

“Enjoy your new roommate, he’s a real talker.” 

He pushed the syringe down into the IV port. A burning sensation filled Lane’s veins and took them under into darkness.

* * *

“Thanks for that. Earlier.”

“No problem, you’d think with all the estrogen between them they’d be a little more nurturing.”

Lane chuckled softly. It had been a few days before they had the chance to talk to their new roommate; Ajax and Angel had their hands full with him, and as for him, he seemed to treat it like a joke. From what Lane could gather from snippets of conversation, he was a mercenary and not taking things seriously was his forte. Ajax remained cool and collected like always, but Lane could hear the edge in his voice after a session with him. 

“He does have a wonderful bosom.”

“That’s what I was going to say!” The voice behind the curtain crowed. Lane wondered how he could still sound so chipper after spending hours locked in a freezer, beaten, and undoubtedly had many more awful things done to him.

An awkward silence fell between them, the lull in conversation punctuated by a scream in some far off corner of the lab. Lane really had no idea how big the space was, having been confined to their own little partitioned area and hooked up to machines, having a bag placed on their head whenever they had been moved to various torture rooms. They guessed that was to disorient them, make sure they had no way to escape. 

“How long have you been here?” He asked, and Lane could detect the bit of apprehension in his voice. 

Lane bit their lip. They had kept track in the beginning, measuring the days by the various injections or beatings, but after a while, in a place with no windows. . . “I’m not really sure. A month or two, maybe?” 

“And no superpowers yet?”

“Nope. But I always was a late bloomer, so.” 

The voice sighed. “I know what you mean. I’m a bit more of a grower than a shower myself.”

“That why you’re here?” 

It was his turn to chuckle - weak and forced, like it hurt to do so. A result of various beatings no doubt. “I wish erectile dysfunction was the reason I was here. Two Words. _Super. Penis._ ” 

“Jesus,” Lane groaned at the thought, letting their head slump back onto the padding. “That’s probably the worst superpower you could get.”

“I think you mean _best_." He replied in a matter-of-fact tone. There was another pause, another scream from somewhere too close for comfort, before he spoke again.“The name’s Wilson, Wade Wilson.” 

“Lane. Sorry we couldn’t meet in better circumstances.” 

“Oh come on, nothing like a little torture to bond over. Just like summer camp.” 

“What type of fucked up summer camp did you go to?” 

The overhead industrial lights switched off unceremoniously and the lab was plunged into darkness, save for a few glowing machines and various torture devices running in the distance. Lane shifted, twisting their head to look out through a slit in the medical curtain that partitioned them from the rest of the lab. It was always worse at night, nothing to do in the darkness except let it all wash over you like a cold wave and wait for it to start all over in the morning. 

That first night had been the worst, after the very first ‘session’ with one of Ajax’s various cronies when their body had all but given up and ceased functioning. A combination of drugs and electroshock therapy had reduced them to a dribbling mess, screaming internally but unable to lift a finger to wipe the drool off of their chin. It hadn’t gotten easier after that per say, but it did get more tolerable. Became the new normal; any day that hadn’t started with a routine injection or torture device was considered an oddity. 

“-and then there was this one time, at band camp I stuck a flute up my-” Wade’s rambling brought Lane out of their thoughts; they hadn’t even noticed he was still talking. 

“As much as I love hearing about musical instruments going places they aren’t supposed to,” Lane interjected, “I think I’m going to try and get some sleep.” 

“Oh, right. Yeah, that’s important. Need to be fully rested for a full day of torture in the morning. Nighty-night, Lane.”

Lane blinked. They couldn’t remember the last time someone had told them goodnight in a non-threatening way. Hell, they couldn’t remember the last time someone had even _talked_ to them without threatening some form of disembowelment. Holding on to the fleeting moment of kindness, Lane closed their eyes. 

“Night, Wade.”


	3. Chapter 3

His body hit the street below, hurtling into the pavement and leaving a sizable crater. Piotr had closed his eyes at the impact, opening them to find the grill of the truck barrelling down at him. In his steel form, he was resistant to most forms of physical damage, but that didn’t mean getting hit by a truck would be pleasant. He set his feet firm into the ground and braced for impact, squaring his broad shoulders and crouching down low with his hands out in front of him. 

The initial hit would’ve sent a normal man flying, but as Colossus, he was no normal man. The head of the truck smashed inwards but kept pushing forward, metal and gears warping around him, sparks flying as metal crunched against metal. He grit his teeth, feeling his feet being pushed backwards, struggling to find traction against the truck, pushing against it with all his strength. He could feel it beginning to slow and bared down, hearing the sound of police sirens getting louder behind him - the blockade. They were getting close and still going too fast; he yelled in frustration, digging his feet into the ground and leaning his weight against the speeding hunk of metal. It shrieked in response, but slowed, eventually coming to a stop mere feet from the first of the police cars.

The police had long scattered at the sight of a semi truck barreling towards them with no sign of stopping, those that had been chasing the truck to begin with swerving off at the sign of the jet dropping into view; Piotr was thankful for that, the X-Men and police having a strenuous relationship to begin with. He had been hoping to avoid a possible firefight and needless violence. Speaking of, that left the matter of the truck driver. 

Piotr stepped out from the front of the truck - a Piotr-sized indent left in the crushed metal - and to the side. The truck’s doors were crumpled but not crushed, and he reached up to grab the handle, only to have it swing open into his waiting hand.

“There is no need for violence, please calmly step out of the truck and -” 

He didn’t get the chance to finish as a bright, white light erupted from inside the cabin and formed itself into a beam, shooting out of the open door and sending him flying off his feet; he flew through the air and crumpled into a heap onto the asphalt several feet back. 

“Holy shit!” Wade crowed from somewhere in the distance. 

Piotr got to his feet, slightly dazed at the brute force that had knocked him back; he hadn’t felt anything quite like that since his fight with Juggernaut. His eyes darted back to the truck, falling on a figure that stepped out of the cab and shut the door behind them. 

They were small, clad in dark body armor that covered them from head to toe. Their helmet reminded him of something out of a sci-fi movie, a dark visor inset into a sleek, black headpiece. They cut an imposing figure, all dark metal and interlocking plates that spoke of something high tech and dangerous. They were walking towards him purposefully, their fists curled into tight balls

“Stop this, now.” Piotr yelled, his voice low in his chest. “I do not wish to harm -”

They ran at him and leapt, cocking back their fist that began to glow with the same white energy that had knocked him back from the truck. He dodged and grabbed them by their wrist, hoisting them out of the air and throwing them to the pavement hard on their back. If it had hurt, they made no sign of acknowledging it, rolling onto their feet and springing back. Piotr knocked away a blow to his jaw and sent them back to the ground again, but this time they rolled and landed a solid kick to his lower back. 

The mystery assailant was relentless, coming back from every punch he threw with one of their own, dodging and evading his fists with practiced precision, catching him with quick, glowing jabs that dinged against his armor. Even whenever he connected a hit, which he did several times, they just came back for more. He grabbed at them after a particularly heavy swing and hurled them back into the truck, leaving a sizable dent against the metal exterior. 

Wade, Cable, and Domino had caught up by now, guns cocked and aimed at the mystery assailant. They were struggling to get up, but still moving. 

“Who the fuck is this guy?” Cable grunted, hoisting his gun up and putting his finger on the trigger. “I say we blast them to hell right now.” 

“No! We don’t kill.” Piotr yelled, “First rule of X-Men.” 

Cable turned to look at Deadpool with a ‘is he serious?’ expression. “Alright, fine, what do you suggest we do with them?” 

“Guys, hate to break up your sexual tension, but they’re doing something.” Domino announced, causing Piotr to bring his attention back to the matter at hand. 

Sure enough, the attacker was punching something into their arm, which Piotr now realized was actually a command console input into their armor. High tech indeed. From the back of the disconnected trailer there came a low rumble, and from the underneath of the truck several disks detached themselves, propelled by spinning blades, looking like sleek drones. They slid apart into two pieces - a body and a sort of head attachment that was inlaid with a red camera eye. There was more movement, and from inside a body was a barrel attachment that extended itself outwards. 

“What the fuck is with this high tech shit?” Deadpool asked, moving to step closer and poke at one with the end of his katana. 

“Get down!” 

No sooner had Domino yelled that had the drones open fired, shooting out bullets at a high speed from their barrels. Piotr scooped all three of them under him, shielding from the spray of bullets with his armored body.

“That must have been the movement we were seeing on the scans.” Cable yelled over the solid  _ ping-ping-ping _ of bullets against Piotr’s back. “Can anyone get a clear shot?”

“No, but I have an idea! Up for a little fastball special?” Deadpool yelled into Piotr’s ear.

“What on earth are you talking about?” Piotr yelled back, the steady stream of bullets still hitting his back. Still not painful, but far from pleasant. 

“Ugh, just pick me up and throw me at them!” 

Domino and Cable scattered for cover as Piotr hoisted up Deadpool and lifted him into the air, Deadpool sitting back on his haunches with his swords extended. With a mighty heft of his shoulders, Piotr threw the red-clad mercenary at the firing drones. 

“Oh, yeah!” He whooped, slicing through the air like a bullet and slashing into the drones with his katanas. “Wolverine can suck it!” 

The robots fell to the ground in heaps of metal and sparking machinery, Deadpool landing on his feet and looking back over his shoulder. “Now, where’d our little psychopath go?”

“There!” Cable shouted, aiming his gun up high onto the roof of the trailer. “Up on the roof.” 

Colossus looked upwards to see the black-clad figure standing right where Cable was pointing. They looked beaten, a crack had appeared in their visor, but had their hands extended, glowing in the white energy, aimed towards - Colossus felt his heart sink to his stomach - Ellie and Yukio. They had landed the jet several yards away and were running up the interstate into the fray. 

“Girls, get back!” He yelled, but it was too late.

Wade was sprinting towards the two girls, Domino and Cable had begun firing, and all Colossus could do was watch in horror as the radiant beam of energy blasted from the attacker’s hands and towards his trainees. It hurt to watch, blindingly bright as it erupted into a straight line, heat crackling around the space it occupied as it sliced through the sky. Bullets were flying, Piotr couldn’t find his voice to tell the mercenaries to stop, and then Wade was flying as well, jumping high up into the path of the beam and catching it square in the chest, less than a foot away from Ellie and Yukio. 

He fell back to the earth in a smoking heap of red. He didn’t get up. 

“Wade!” Cable was yelling, already holstering his gun and running towards his fallen friend. Piotr was running as well, his heavy footfalls clanking on the asphalt, his heart racing as he reached Wade’s prone body. 


	4. Chapter 4

It was a canister. Barely bigger than a thermos. Lane narrowed their eyes and looked back up at Ajax.

“I know it doesn’t look like much, but believe me, it packs a wallop. Fancy scientist bloke by the name of Richards discovered it in deep space, nearly killed him and his entire crew.” 

He turned the canister around and the yellow radiation symbol made their heart skip a beat. Hazardous material. Bad shit. 

“Cosmic Radiation. You see, it gave Richards and his friends some fancy abilities, but they did it on  _ accident _ . Imagine what happens when we aim it at you  _ deliberately _ . We imagine it’ll be roughly around the same as getting over 10,000 chest x-rays at once. And we’re going to do it until something happens, or you die. Whichever comes first.” 

Even Wade had gone silent behind the curtain. The steady beeping of machines and the occasional groan from another bed were the only sounds cutting into the silence. They swallowed. 

“You’re going to give me cancer.” It came out as barely above a whisper. 

Ajax shrugged while Angel smirked beside him. “That’s certainly a possibility. Another is that your bones melt down, your skin sloughs off-” 

“You’re fucking sick.” Lane rasped in a bitter growl.

He leaned in close enough that they could smell his aftershave; the scent made bile rise in their throat. “Our investors are very interested to see what happens. You have a chance at being the new favorite toy.”

“If I live.” 

“And if you don’t we can at least use your body for parts. See you in the morning.” 

He turned on his heel and left, Angel in tow. Just like that after handing them a death sentence as casually as discussing the weather. Wade coughed, wet and thick, and then fell silent once again. It sounded too far away, and getting farther. Everything seemed to fade into the peripheral, their vision going fuzzy around the edges and narrowing to a pinhole looking up at the ugly concrete ceiling. 

“At least they aren’t putting you in a barrel of radioactive spiders.”

Lane blinked, snapping out of their stupor and turning their head towards Wade’s voice behind the curtain. “What?”

“I said, at least they aren’t putting you in a barrel of spiders. Or Hulk jizz, can you imagine how radioactive that stuff is?” 

Lane fell silent. From behind the curtain Wade let out a huff. “Don’t imagine it that hard. I know it’s been a while for all of us and this bondage set up gives a person ideas-.”

Lane’s laugh was dry and small, criminally underused in the weeks that had gone without laughter. They couldn’t remember the last time they had laughed, really laughed. Wade could barely make it out over the din of the laboratory. 

“Oh, god, my last thoughts are going to be of the Hulk’s nutsack when I die. I’m calling it now. Fuck you Wilson.”

“You’re Wel-come!” Wade called back in a sing-songy voice that made Lane chuckle. 

“Thanks, Wade.”

“No problem. And hey, if this superhero thing doesn’t work out for you, we can at least be cancer buddies.” 

“...You have cancer?”

Lane asked without thinking and immediately wished they could take it back. Wade had never brought up what made him join the program, but Lane had guessed it was some sort of illness. He would have horrible coughing fits and complained how much it hurt to pee; Lane had never asked. Everyone had their own reasons for coming here.

“Oh yeah, the big C. After clitoris, of course.” 

“And so you come...here? This isn’t exactly a state of the art facility.” Lane did it again, wincing as they realized the gravity of their words. “Sorry, ignore that. Drugs talking.” 

Wade fell silent and Lane worried that they had lost their only friend. They had come to think of Wade as a friend despite never having seen his face or know anything about him other than love for Tex-Mex food. Then again, Lane had revealed even less about themself. This wasn’t a place to pry into personal business when it could be used against you as a form of torture. 

“I…I know.” Wade’s voice broke the silence after a long pause. It was quieter, more thoughtful. “I couldn’t...I didn’t want anyone to watch me die.” 

Lane bit the inside of their cheek. “I’m sorry.” 

“S’okay. Makes for a pretty cool origin story.” If he was upset, his normal upbeat, borderline sarcastic tone did little to convey it. 

Lane snorted. “Cooler than mine.” 

“Well, when you become the human version of Chernobyl, maybe you can franchise. Have a team of writers make up a really cool one for you. Dead parents, explosions, the whole sh-bang.” 

“If I live.” Lane repeated tonelessly. Jokes about dying were common with Wade’s morbid sense of humor, but this time nobody was laughing. They swallowed, their throat suddenly feeling like sandpaper. There had been certain things Lane had been able to get used to, become accustomed to even - waterboarding, beatings, and getting locked in a freezer to name a few - but this wasn’t a new method of torture. This was a guaranteed death sentence. 

“Hey, c’mon don’t talk like that. I’m gonna be right here beside you, and I’ll tell you if you’re dying or not. I’m like one of those cats that can smell death on old people.” 

The thought of Wade as a cat made Lane smile, but it was a hollow expression that didn’t quite reach their eyes. “Well, shit, with a power like that, what are you doing here?” 

“Like I said.  _ Super Penis. _ ” 


	5. Chapter 5

Piotr was trying his best not to vomit as he approached Wade’s body, a smoking hole where his chest should be. The beam had shot clean through to where he could see the road on the other side of his body, the edges of his uniform smoldering; the smell was enough to make everyone in the vicinity gag. 

Yukio was shaking in Ellie’s arms, Ellie herself looking a bit green at the sight of seeing Wade’s body partially disintegrate in front of her. Dopinder had caught up as well, his taxi parked off to the side of the road, which he was now vomiting beside. 

“Aw, dammit. I liked this suit.” Wade croaked, his body already beginning to knit itself back together in a mass of mottled skin. If it was painful, he didn’t let it on. Cable helped to pull him to his feet, unbothered by the grisly sight. “Anyone seen some ribs?” 

“Mr. Pool, they are over here.” Dopinder called back, turning away to vomit again.

“Wade, are you alright?” Piotr asked, attempting to swallow his lunch back into his stomach.

“Oh yeah, just peachy. Not like I needed any of those internal organs anyways. Or major sections of my spine.” Wade grunted, “Everyone else okay? Negasonic Tropical Depression? Dopinder?”

“Fine, we’re fine.” Ellie said, her tone void of its usual iciness, clearly shaken up but trying not to show it. Piotr put a hand on her shoulder and softly squeezed it. 

“Ellie, breathe. Everything is okay.” Piotr frowned. “It’s my fault, I should have warned you -”

“Hey, don’t be too hard on yourself man of steel.” Wade clapped him on the shoulder, his posture slightly bent as his spine was continuing to reform. “I don’t think anyone saw that light show coming.” Wade asked. “Anyone else tasting metal? Besides you, obviously.” 

“Ah shit, Domino.” Cable said in sudden realization, taking off back towards the ruined trailer. There was no sound of gunfire, which could’ve either been a good thing or a bad thing considering the current circumstances. The rest of them took off running, Wade bringing up the rear with a slow hobble as his body reformed. 

Domino had indeed stopped firing, and was standing in front of the trailer, looking upwards quizzically. 

“They just...dropped.” She said, pointing up towards the roof of the trailer. Even at his height, Piotr had to get up on his toes to see the outline of the black figure laying down on the roof. They weren’t moving, no sign that they were even still conscious. 

“I’m picking up vital signs,” Cable said, his cybernetic eye glowing as it scanned over the trailer. “Still alive. Someone needs to go up there.”

“Could be a surprise attack.” Domino murmured. “Catch us with our guard down, blast us with that energy beam.”

“Or they could be hurt.” Yukio offered in a small voice. 

All eyes turned to Wade, who crossed his arms over the hole in his suit, his reformed chest exposed beneath. “No way, nuh uh, I already got one suit ruined today.” Wade argued defensively. “Do you know how hard it is to get this fabric in the exact shade of red?” 

“I’ll go.” Dopinder announced. 

“Gonna nix that one Brown Panther, the last thing we need is another bloodlust, Kirsten Dunst episode.” Wade threw up his hands. “Ah, fuck it, fine. Chrome-dome, give me a leg up.” 

“Need to hurry before DMC arrives.” Piotr said, “last thing we need right now.” 

“Oof, yeah, I’m with you on that one,” Wade gave a shiver. “I’m still kind of on their shit list after last time. Now, firmly but gently grab my butt and boost me.” 

“Wade...no.” 

“I mean I wasn’t going to suggest doing it roughly but if you insist -” 

“No, I didn’t mean... just hold still.” Piotr grabbed Wade by his waist and hoisted him up effortlessly. Clambering up the side, Wade looked back down at him and mimed a swoon.

“This is the second time you’ve manhandled me today, I must be dreaming.” 

“Hurry it up you talking buttplug.” Cable yelled up at him. 

“Fine, fine. Alright, let’s see who’s really behind this mask - Old man Jenkins or -” 

Piotr caught the cracked helmet as Wade threw it off the side of the trailer; it felt surprisingly lightweight in his hands to have been so sturdy in their fight. He passed it off to Ellie - she was good with tech stuff, maybe she could get something out of it - for safekeeping. From up above, Wade had stopped talking, and from his position on the ground he could see the sudden stiffness in Wade’s demeanor.

“Wade? Are you okay?” He called up. No reply, no smart comment, nothing. That wasn’t a good sign. “Wade?” 

“I uh...Oh, my god. Oh my god.” His voice was strained, near hysterical; that was cause enough for Piotr to be alarmed, climbing up the side of the trailer and raising himself up onto his feet. 

Wade had the figure’s head resting on in his shoulder, the rest of their body pulled into his lap. With the helmet removed, Piotr could now see their face - light brown hair shorn short to their head, gaunt and pale. Their skin was the color of candle wax, sallow circles underneath their eyes. In Wade’s arms, it was hard to believe that this still figure had been the one causing all the trouble when it looked like they could barely keep their head up on their own. 

“I  _ know _ them, they were - we - oh god. This can’t be happening.” Wade groaned, readjusting his position to have the figure sitting up. “Hey, c’mon, you gotta stay with me. Stay with me.” 

“What’s the hold up?” Cable shouted from below. 

“One minute, please.” Piotr called back, taking a step towards Wade and the person in his arms. He got onto his knees and sank to the roof, eye-level with the mercenary in red. “Wade, I need you to calm down. Are they breathing?”

“Yeah, yeah they’re breathing but it’s all rapid and shallow, and their eyes are all glassy.” 

“We need to get back to jet, we can give them proper medical attention there. NTW,” he called down to the trainee, “prep emergency medical on jet.” 

“You got it,” she called back up, running back to the jet with Yukio close behind her. 

He turned back to Wade, still holding the mystery person in his arms. “Wade, we need to move to jet. Can you carry her-?”

_ “Them.”  _ Wade all but shouted, his grip on the body in his arms tightening.

“What?” Piotr blinked. 

“They’re not a girl. And...and their name is Lane.” 


	6. Chapter 6

Lane woke to the feeling of their gurney moving, looking up from their slumber to see one of the henchmen clad in a hazmat suit. That was different. There was a group of them - one pushing the gurney, one pushing their IV stand alongside, and another taking notes on a clipboard, all in white hazmat suits. That was very different; Lane was small, and usually had only one guard as an escort from various torture rooms and back again. Lane’s eyes adjusted to the surroundings - no bag over their eyes this time, either - it was still lights out. 

“Hey, where are we going?” No answer. “Hey!” 

“Lane?” Wade’s sleepy voice called out from somewhere closer. They must have been going past his section out into the lab. “Whatshgoingon?” 

“Wade!” Lane yelled back, struggling against the bonds on their wrists. “Wade what’s happening?” They twisted their head as far backwards as it would go, desperately trying to find him, as if just seeing him would end the nightmare. “Where are you?”

“Lane?” He was awake now, more desperate. “Lane!” There was a sound like he was struggling against his own bonds, rocking back and forth on his gurney. A loud crash. “Fuck!”

His gurney had fallen outside of the medical blinds, and for the first time, their eyes met. He looked haggard and pale, eyes rimmed red and his face unshaved and gaunt. Had the situation been different, they might have made a joke about it - how he had always sounded so cheerful but really looked like shit. How they both did; Lane doubted that they looked much better. 

“Wade!” Lane was screaming now, struggling harder, biting at the hands that descended upon them to try and push them back onto the gurney. They were being pushed further into the bowels of The Workshop, passing more screened rooms and patients who were no doubt being awakened by the commotion

“Somebody!” Lane screamed, quickly exhausting the hope that anyone would be in any condition to help. A hand descended onto their mouth and another fell onto their shoulder. There was a cold swab and a sharp prick on their neck, a sedative no doubt. Everything began to swim sideways. The last thing Lane could make out was a distant voice yelling their name. 

* * *

_ “I was really hoping we’d do that with less excitement. God knows that’s the last thing Wilson needs.” _

Lane groaned and rolled over onto their stomach. Rolled. Their eyes shot open. No gurney, no straps. No nothing. The room was cushioned - a padded cell - and roughly bigger than a closet. They stood on wobbly legs, it had been a long time since they stood on their own without being hauled away by a guard. Lane could reach out and almost touch the walls on all sides while standing in the middle of the room. No visible door, no vents, no windows. A single light on the ceiling far beyond their reach. The only thing of interest was a single square tile in the middle of the floor, made of a dark metal that was a stark contrast against the cushioned room. 

_ “You like your new accomodations? Built specially for you, just big enough to be cozy. Have to say, I’m quite jealous.”  _

Ajax. Lane looked around for the source of his smug voice, finding nothing and imagining that there was a speaker hidden somewhere in the room. There had to be a camera as well, something they were watching with. Their fingernails skidded off the surface of the cushions, unable to even manage a rip in the fabric.

_ “Oh, you’re going to love this. The piece de resistance.”  _

There was a smooth sound like a sliding door, and the metal tile in the floor opened up. A platform raised itself up from the depths of who knew where, and Lane found themself face to face with...rocks? Several small pebbles, craggy and silver, shiny under the harsh fluorescent lights. 

_ “Go ahead, they won’t bite.” _

Lane swallowed, noting that their mouth tasted almost metallic and their tongue was swollen, and reached for one of the rocks. It was smooth in their hand, they squeezed it in their fist and it was solid, passing it back to the other hand and doing the same. Nothing out of the ordinary. Cold and smooth. Kind of nice to have something from the outside world, actually. 

“What am I supposed to do with this? Bash my brains out with it?” 

There was a chuckle from somewhere, and Lane wanted nothing more than to throw the rock in Ajax’s face, wherever he was. 

_ “Nothing so barbaric. Those are asteroids from the same belt of cosmic radiation where Richards and his crew had their little accident. Now, they were barely protected by their spaceship, but you’re getting the full dose, little girl.”  _

Fuck. Lane dropped the rock and it skidded onto the metal platform, jostling the others and sending them around the room. Several hit their feet and they kicked them to the corner, wiping their hands on the grimy medical gown as if it was possible to wipe off the radiation.

“Oh, god. Oh, fuck.” Lane muttered, backing themself into the farthest corner of the cell (which, admittedly, wasn’t far) and hunkering down into a tight ball. How could they have been so stupid? How much radiation had they absorbed already? “Fuck. Shit. Balls. Fuck!”

_ “Here’s what’s going to happen - we’re going to take bets on what will kill you first, the radiation poisoning or dehydration. You start to show signs of activating a mutation, we let you out. If we remember you.”  _

“No bathroom or sink or anything?” Lane called out, looking around their surroundings and realizing there was none. 

Silence.

“What about food?”

Silence.

“Hello?” 

Up above, the light flickered and went out. No lights. No sound except for their own breathing. Nothing except for the rocks that would inevitably kill them. 

* * *

It had been three days since they were first shoved inside this prison, but that was assuming that lights out actually coordinated to the passing of days. In reality, Lane had no idea how long they had been in the hole. Radiation poisoning was already taking hold of their body - a pounding headache and spells of nausea that made the room spin, vomiting up nothing but blood and saliva. That did little to help with the dehydration and hunger that gnawed at their stomach. Hair had begun to fall out in clumps that drifted on the floor like tumbleweeds.

Lane leaned over and dry heaved, spitting up bile and blood into the corner they had designated as the bathroom. The rocks had been hastily shoved into another corner but Lane doubted that did anything to lessen the exposure. They spat at them and hobbled into the clean corner of the room they had dubbed ‘bed’. 

“Stupid rocks.” 

Most concerning to Lane were the burns. Deep red blisters on their hands and several on their feet where the asteroids had made direct contact. They pulsed and itched deep underneath the skin; Lane suspected that was part of the torture, the urge not to scratch and risk infection. It was getting harder to stay conscious longer than a few minutes at a time, and they had taken to poking at the painful spots in order to keep awake. 

“Three hundred bottles of beer on the wall, three hundred bottles of beer…” Lane half sing-songed half sighed, scratching at their scalp and coming back with a handful of fine hair. “Take one down, pass it around, three hundred and one bottles of beer on the wall.” 

The lights went out and Lane closed their eyes. They missed Wade. Was he still alive? Was anyone out there still alive? Everyone outside could have been dead for all they knew; Ajax had been radio silent since the initial move-in, and it was getting to the point where Lane would’ve been happy to hear even his condescending voice. Or Angel’s low growl. Or...anyone.

Lane wasn’t sure how long they had been asleep when the pain reached its peak and roused them from whatever. They couldn’t do anything except roll over onto their side and wait for it to pass, their insides cramping. Bile rising to their lips.  _ This will pass, this will pass. _ Except it didn’t pass, it crescendoed. Lane grit their teeth, body on fire and every pulse of their heart sending a new wave of electric pain across their nerves. They couldn’t scream, throat raw from vomiting up stomach acid and blood, and clenching their fists only made it worse. 

“Oh, God,” they moaned, backing up into the corner and trying to stand. The blisters on their hands and feet had split, warm fluid spilling onto the floor as they thrashed on the floor. 

Several things happened in quick succession. One - Lane looked down at the weeping blisters on their hands and made out a swirling, black mass just underneath the upper layer of raw skin. It moved and pushed like it was alive, pulsating and writhing, trying to escape from underneath their skin. Worse than that, it seemed to almost  _ glow _ . Two - from high up above, a gas had begun to filter in from an invisible vent hidden in the layers of kevlar and foam that padded the cell. Three - Lane fell to the floor in a heap of limbs and went still. 


	7. Chapter 7

Wade had insisted on carrying Lane, even with an only half-formed spine, but soon had to relinquish the task to Piotr after almost falling and wiping out on the asphalt. 

Cable and Domino had split off from the rest of the group to check over the truck, hoping to find any sort of evidence as to Lane’s background or employer, Dopinder following suit seeing as how he was their ride home. 

“Are you sure about this? Less than five minutes ago your trainees almost got fried.” Cable had asked Piotr, his voice low and gravelly. 

Truthfully, Piotr wasn’t sure what to think. Staring at the figure in his arms, they looked anything but threatening. Their breath was coming in quick, shallow gasps, eyes glazed over like glass marbles. But, if his experience with Wade had taught him anything, it was that looks could be deceiving. 

“We need to get this armor off and check for damage.” He announced, gently setting Lane onto the exam table at the back of the jet. He briefly considered putting the restraints on their wrists, but thought better of it once Wade had entered the jet and rushed to their side. “Yukio, can you assist?”

The pink haired teen nodded, moving forward to unstrap their boots and gauntlets. “Hey, check this out.” She called over to Piotr. “Look - the hands. Some kind of tattoo?” 

Right in the center of their palm and extending outwards onto their fingers was a dark black-blue mass that twinkled with the shifting light. Far too realistic to be a tattoo, Piotr gently took their other hand in his to find similar markings; a galaxy contained in their skin, stars winking back at him as he stared. 

“Their mutation, perhaps.” 

“It’s pretty.” Yukio murmured. “That’s where that beam came from. Their hands.” 

They were still breathing in and out rapidly, chest quickly rising and falling as Yukio worked to remove their armor. It was made of the same lightweight material as their helmet had been, but held fast when Piotr made an effort to bend it in his fingers. When the last piece had been removed, they were left clad in a dark bodysuit that was wired through with silvery filaments. 

“Hey, Lane, you gotta relax, I’m right here. It’s Wade.” Wade was saying in a soothing voice from beside the exam table. “You gotta breathe.” He turned to Piotr. “What’s wrong with them?” 

Piotr took a seat in front of Lane, who had barely acknowledged the change in environment. He took a penlight from the first aid kit and shined it into their eyes. “Doesn’t look to be any sort of concussion, but we’ll know for sure once we reach mansion. Hank can take a look and tell us for certain.”

His steel brow furrowed, something Wade mentioned coming to the forefront of his mind as he examined the body before him. “You said that you knew her?”

“ _ Them _ . And, yeah. I did. We uh,” Wade looked away, slipping off his mask, the emotion visible on his face. “They were in The Workshop with me. With Francis. They were there longer than I was, and, one day they just...disappeared. I always thought that they had died, that’s what they told me.” Wade swallowed, balling up his mask in his fists. “I should’ve looked for them, I could’ve…”

“Wade, you didn’t know. You can be there for her... _ them _ now.” Piotr comforted him. “They need it now more than ever.” 

“So, wait,” Ellie called from the cockpit of the jet where Yukio had joined her, spinning her chair back to face the main cabin. “If you had gone through the whole thing, that’s what you would’ve ended up like? I think I’d rather take the annoying version of you.” 

“I think that's the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Wade acknowledged, “guess almost getting blasted by starchild over here mellowed you out some, huh?” 

“Whatever, Douchepool,” she called back, sticking her headphones into her ears and spinning her seat back around to the front. 

“Language, please.” Piotr called, more out of habit than to actually chastise her. His attention turned back to Lane. Without the armor, they were practically unrecognizable; more than anything, they looked tired. “Lane, my name is Piotr. My friends call me Pete. I need you to relax your breathing, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Like this,  _ da _ ?” 

He demonstrated, taking a deep breath in through his nostrils and letting it out through parted lips. “We are taking you to a place where we can help you. People that you can trust.” 

“I don’t know if I’d go that far -” Wade interjected, earning him a sharp look. 

“Bring me a blanket, should be up in main cabin.” Piotr ordered, shooing Wade off to avoid more of his commentary; he smiled back at Lane, trying to make his demeanor as calm as possible. Their breathing had begun to even out, no longer coming in ragged gasps. That was a good sign. “ _ Khoroshiy _ , that is much better. Would you like to lay back?” 

No reply, no sign that they had even heard him at all, but their body slowly lowered itself onto the exam table. Their movements were jerky, like it had been a long time since they had properly moved their body; once their head hit the pillow, they let out a low exhale that almost sounded like a groan. Wade came back with the blanket and laid it over their body, making a show of tucking them in tightly. 

“There we go, snug as a bug in a rug,” he sing-songed, forcing a smile that quickly faded as he turned to Piotr. His eyes were full of barely-restrained worry. “So, what happens now?” 

“That is up to Professor, I imagine that he will try to help.” Piotr replied. “He has dealt with this sort of thing before. Wolverine came to us with similar problem, and now he is an upstanding member of X-Men.”

“Yeah, and that’s going  _ so _ well.” Wade snorted. “A feral Canadian midget with memory problems and anger issues who keeps trying to boink the team leader’s girl.”

Yukio laughed in spite of herself, trying to pass it off as a cough and quickly busying herself with the jet controls. Piotr sighed and rubbed at his temples.

“Wade, please. Give us a chance. For their sake.”

Lane hadn’t moved a muscle, the only indication they were still alive was the steady rise and fall of their chest under the covers. Their eyes had gone from fully wide and open to half-lidded, still glassy and far away. If Piotr was being honest with himself, then he had to admit it was unnerving to see someone look so...dead inside, for lack of a better term. The lights were on, but nobody was home. He could only imagine how Wade was feeling at seeing his friend like this. 

Wade had leaned back in his seat, his arms crossed over his chest; the hole was completely sealed now, a testament to the ability of his healing factor. He was bouncing his leg and chewing on his lip, mentally weighing his options before sitting back up and letting out a defeated huff. “Fine, but the second we start holding hands and singing kumbaya, we’re out.” 

Piotr shook his head, almost certain that was the best he could do in terms of bargaining with the mercenary. “Deal.”


	8. Chapter 8

“Fascinating.” The doctor hummed from underneath his hazmat helmet, poking the holes that now took residence in Lane’s palms. The upper layers of the blistered skin had been removed, and underlying skin had been replaced with blue-black space. Stars and distant galaxies swirled on the splotches like they were alive, each area holding a different pattern of stars and colors that moved independently of each other. To touch them though, it was just like skin. Like an intricate, hyper realistic tattoo that of some distant galaxy had imprinted itself on their skin overnight.

“All lingering signs of radiation exposure have practically disappeared, and it’s not radioactive at all. It’s like it simply  _ absorbed _ it with no lingering effects beyond initial exposure.” 

The Doctor turned and looked back at Ajax, who was hovering over his shoulder like an unsettling ghost. “We managed to run some tests on the asteroids as well. About as useful as earth rocks now, all the radiation seems to have been simply sucked out of them.” 

“Well that’s quite fascinating, but can we use it? She’s not exactly going to win any beauty contests looking like that.”

For all his harshness, Ajax was right. Lane was a mess, most of their hair gone, dark circles underneath their eyes, and a sickly sheen to their skin. And yet, still alive, much to their own surprise and that of the Doctor who now examined them. They were quiet and had their eyes on the ground, letting the doctor poke and prod with no protest. 

“Well, to think of the practical applications - we have a walking radiation absorber right in front of us. Companies would pay thousands to have it dispose of radioactive materials, do clean ups -” 

Ajax had the doctor cornered in two quick strides, looming over him. “If they wanted a janitor, I would have sent them your resume. They want a  _ weapon _ .” 

The Doctor swallowed and picked up a scalpel, stepping around Ajax. “There are a few other side effects we’ve discovered.” Wordlessly he cut a thin line down the side of Lane’s shoulder, only to have the skin stitch itself together with the same stars and galaxies that covered their hands. “It would appear that it can heal from superficial injury quite quickly, giving it some sort of healing factor that we don’t quite know the extent of yet. With a bit of... _ experimentation _ , we could easily discover how far it goes.”

“And how long will this last?” Ajax asked, gesturing to Lane’s entire body. They hadn’t reacted to the fresh cut, or even acknowledged the presence of anyone else in the room. Their eyes were a million miles away, barely moving except for the slightest rise and fall of their chest.

“It's shock, more than likely, so no more than a day or two. All brain scans we’ve done detect normal activity. We’re waiting for it to subside before we begin behavior modification and training.” 

“Load her up with sedatives, just in case. I don’t want this one getting away.” Ajax turned on his heel and exited the lab, leaving the doctor and his patient in silence. 

The Doctor sighed and removed his hazmat helmet, placing it onto the nearest counter and running a hand through his thick walrus moustache. Lane let out a moan from the table and the Doctor turned, taking a syringe from his smock and settling them down on their back. 

“Easy my dear, Doctor Killebrew is here to help you. We’re going to fix you up proper.” 

* * *

Even from down the hallway, Ajax could hear the telltale signs of a struggle. Angel in tow, he followed it to one of the enclosed lab spaces and threw open the door. The room was in shambles - papers strewn about, blood on the floor, cabinets thrown open and their contents scattered onto the floor.

“I want to talk to him!” Lane screamed, throwing a chair onto the crouched form of Doctor Killebrew who was backed into a corner. “I want to talk to him now!” 

With a quick nod from Ajax, Angel marched into the room and slid her thick, muscular arms around Lane’s waist and hoisted their struggling figure off of the ground. The doctor skittered out of the corner and behind Ajax, panting and shaking with the effort of trying to catch his breath. He had a nasty cut on his forehead and a bruise blooming under his eye. 

“Metabolized the sedative...too fast...” The Doctor turned heel and ran just as more guards filtered into the hallway behind Ajax, armed with guns and murderous expressions. 

Lane continued to struggle, scratching and kicking, screaming like a wounded animal. Angel held fast, but it was obvious that it was a challenge, even to have such a height and size advantage over the smaller Lane. Their cries fell silent when Ajax stepped into the room, eyes narrowing.

“ _ You _ .” They seethed, baring their teeth and renewing their struggle to get out of Angel’s grasp. “You bastard! You did this to me!” 

“You wanted to speak to me, dear?” Ajax taunted, ignoring Lane’s cries and taking several more steps forward like it was a casual conversation. 

“Not you.” Lane spat. “Wade, I want to talk to Wade. Doctor Frankenstein said I could if I let you keep cutting me open, sticking and poking me. I want to talk to him  _ now _ .” 

Ajax’s eyes narrowed; he’d have to discipline Killebrew later for bargaining with the subjects. He reached out a hand and grabbed Lane by the chin, forcing their eyes up to his. They were much more aware now, darkened with rage. Even the stars in their skin seemed to shine brighter with their anger. More patches of their body were covered with the starry skin - pieces cut away and reformed with the new material that took residence in their body. 

“Wade?” He asked, feigning ignorance. “I don’t think we have a Wade here.” 

“Wade Wilson. Wouldn’t shut up, kept talking about his dick. He...” Lane faltered, swallowing a lump in their throat. What could they say about Wade? That he was their only friend? The only person who had made this place even slightly bearable? “...he has cancer.” 

Ajax let go of Lane’s chin and stepped back, putting a hand to his own chin in an expression of thought. “Oh, that Wade Wilson. Dead. Died the night we put you in the hole.” 

Lane stopped fighting and went limp in Angel’s arms, all the air leaving their body like they had been sucker punched. Angel dropped them unceremoniously and resumed her position beside Ajax, readjusting the matchstick between her teeth; from the doorway, several of the guards lowered their guns as Lane’s shoulders began to shake with silent sobs. A pale, sickly figure with patchy hair and broken skin, Lane looked more like a shattered doll than a threat.

“Real tragic, the cancer finally caught up to him.” Ajax continued. “Before we had the chance to have any real fun, either.”

“Shut up.” Lane growled, curling into a ball on the floor and bringing their hands over their head. “You’re lying.”

Ajax cocked a half smile, motioning to Angel to grab another syringe of sedative from the medical cabinet on the far wall. “Oh no, I remember now. Just dropped dead after we finished one of our little sessions with him. Should’ve heard him, begging for his life. Music to my ears instead of that usual gibberish.”

“Shut. Up.” 

“That idiot died thinking you’d gone off and abandoned him to become a hero. But really, you’re just a tool, not even a very good one at that.” 

“ _ SHUT UP!”  _ The aura in the room shifted as Lane screamed and thrust their hands skyward, all the starry patches on their skin glowing too bright to look at. It happened in an instant - the sudden stifling heat that radiated off of Lane in waves, the push of invisible energy that sent everyone in the room back at least a foot, and the bright, white light that shot up out of their hands into the ceiling above them. It only lasted for a second, less than that even, and left behind a clean hole, shot straight up and burning through several layers of ceiling and floor. 

The guards were the first to move, filing into the room and training their guns on Lane, who slowly lowered their outstretched hands. They were breathing heavily, sweating and shaking slightly; they looked more confused than anything, not to mention slightly worse for wear at the sudden exertion. 

“Well, Angel,” Ajax said, turning to Angel, who had been closest to Lane and had fallen onto the floor with the force of the blast. “I think we can up our asking price by 20 million.” 


	9. Chapter 9

An audience had formed in the hangar as the jet touched down and landed in its usual parking place. Piotr could make out the Professor front and center, Scott close behind him with a sour expression on his face. The jet’s ramp descended and the two of them boarded, the Professor’s wheelchair gliding smoothly into the jet with the soft mechanical whir that Piotr had come to find comforting in his time at the mansion.

“Albeit a little unorthodox, I dare say that went as smoothly as possible given the circumstances.” The Professor said with a slight smile to his voice. “I’m sure the team will want a full debriefing once we get all the information.” He turned. “Mr. Wilson, it’s good to see you again.” 

“Professor! You look good, been working out?” Wade asked, getting to his feet. “You wouldn’t happen to have another shirt, would you? This nipple window situation isn’t exactly school friendly -”

“I’m sure we can find something for you. Scott, if you would take Ellie and Yukio and find Mr.Wilson something more...appropriate to wear?” 

Once the three of them had gone, the Professor wheeled his way to the makeshift medical bay that had been prepared in the back of the jet. “Now, let’s get a better look at our guest here.” 

“Lane,” Wade interjected. “Their name is Lane.” 

The Professor nodded, pulling up beside the exam table. “Lane, Lane can you hear me? My name is Professor Charles Xavier, and you’re at my school in Westchester. We’re here to help you.”

No response, only the dreamy look in their eyes. Piotr frowned, but the Professor seemed undeterred. “Lane...I’m going to do something that may be extremely uncomfortable, and for that I apologize, but in order to help you, I need to take a look into your mind. I will try to be as gentle as possible.” 

The air stilled in the jet as the Professor took one of Lane’s starry hands in his own. He closed his eyes and furrowed his brow. “Oh...oh, dear.” He mumbled, the frown on his face deepening. On the table, Lane began to stir, their feet twitching and eyes rolling back into their head. 

Wade took a step forward, only to have Piotr put out a hand to keep him from going any further. “Easy, Wade. He knows what he is doing.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, you chrome crotch-rocket, but I’m a little uncomfortable having Baldy McBalderson over there rooting around in my friends head.” 

“I just so happen to be bald, not deaf, Mr. Wilson.” The Professor said, his eyes still closed. Lane had gone still on the table, their eyes now closed and their breathing slowed. He opened his eyes and removed his hand, wheeling back into the main cabin of the jet. “I’ve put them in a temporary sleep, that’s what they need most right now - rest. Goodness knows the last time they had any.” 

“So...what is wrong with them?” Piotr asked, breaking the tense silence that had begun to creep around the edges of the conversation. 

“Hank will be in charge of the physical examination, but from the mental aspect, there’s... a great deal to unpack.” The Professor sighed, taking Lane’s hand in his own again, this time in a much more calming fashion. There was sympathy in his eyes, a look of deep sadness on his features. 

“Their memory is severely fragmented, there’s evidence of forced memory wipes going back several years, on top of a great deal of mental reconditioning. Increased aggression and hostility, combat training, and an overriding sense of...obedience.” 

“A trained attack dog,” Piotr said, trying to keep his voice even despite the anger that had begun boiling in his chest. 

Wade was pacing around the cabin, tightly wringing his hands, his brows pulled tight together. “So, what, you go back in, fix up their memories, and then they’re back to normal, right? Then we find the guy who tried to send them on a one way trip to boom town, and we get him, problem solved.”

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple, Mr. Wilson. The human memory is an incredibly fragile thing, to go in and try to force the pieces back together would prove disastrous, especially when such trauma has been caused -”

“Motherfucker!” Wade shouted, hitting the interior wall with a loud, metallic _ clang _ . He quickly turned to see if the noise had woken Lane, but they were out cold. Regardless, he lowered his voice to a whisper-yell. “So you’re telling me that we’re just going to sit here with our hands on our dicks, while the dickweed who tried to kill them is out there?” 

Piotr was about to jump into the conversation with a retort, but the Professor silenced him with a raised hand and a.shake of his head He cleared his throat and leaned forward in his chair, fixing Wade with a stern look. 

“No, Mr. Wilson. What we’re going to do is help Lane, safely and carefully so as to not cause any more damage. What you and X-Force decide to do with the information that may surface is entirely up to you. But our main priority right now is Lane - a priority I thought you would share, given your history together.” The Professor replied, his voice not wavering an inch from its calm tone, but his words devastating nonetheless. 

“Wow…” Wade said after a long pause, “anyone else who feels like their dad just told them that he was disappointed in them?” There was none of the usual bite to his tone, much to Piotr’s surprise. He turned away just as Ellie came back up the ramp of the jet and threw a trainee jersey into his face

“Here, we figured it’d be better than one of Yukio’s crop tops.” She said as Wade pulled it on over his head. “Hank’s got the medical lab ready too, said you could drop them in whenever you’re ready.” 

“Thank you, Ellie.” The Professor said, turning around in his chair to face her. “Will you bring us up a stretcher as well?” 

“I can carry them.” Piotr offered. “Wade, are you okay with that?”

Wade had taken a seat up in the cockpit and thrown his head back, the bright yellow jersey a stark contrast over the remains of his red suit. He had slipped his mask back on as well, making his face practically unreadable. “Yeah, just...just be careful with them. They might wake up and kick your ass again.” 

Piotr bent down and scooped up Lane, blanket and all, into his arms. They were in a deep slumber, and barely stirred with the adjustment. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since they had a good night's rest, but they made no sign of waking up from this one anytime soon. 

“I’ll be along to Hank’s lab momentarily, you go on ahead Piotr.” The Professor called after him as he descended the ramp. “Mr. Wilson and I need to discuss a few matters first.” 

Piotr nodded and left the hangar, Lane asleep in his arms. 


	10. Chapter 10

It was one of the rare times when Angel was there without Ajax. Her hands worked deftly, strapping Lane into the chair and placing electrode pads on their temples. Lane’s hair had started to grow back in fuzzy patches, some of it sticking to the pad as Angel roughly pressed it to their skin.

“Why are you doing this?”

No answer. Lane struggled against their bonds, testing their strength and finding them too tight to even budge. Angel fiddled with a machine that was somewhere behind Lane’s field of vision, twisting knobs and pressing buttons. Several more wires and tubes were attached, more adjustments. Lane swallowed and tried again.

“Do you enjoy this? Hurting people?”

Angel huffed and stopped her work, looking over at Lane like they were something stuck to the bottom of her shoe. “And what if I do?” 

“Then I’d say someone hurt you before. Maybe even before all of this.” 

Angel chuckled and set back to work, barely acknowledging the statement. “I thought we made you into a walking dirty bomb, not some bullshit empath.” 

“Just a lot of time to think.” Lane answered, exhaustion evident in their voice. When they weren’t getting cut to pieces, forced to blow things up, or doing...whatever this was, they were back in their specially made hole. Sometimes for days at a time. “Not much else to do.” 

“Yeah, well, you won’t be doing much of that after this.” 

Strapping Lane’s head into place - straight forward, unable to move a muscle - Angel stepped away and returned with a blindfold. 

“Kinky.” Lane muttered, eliciting a deep groan from their captor. The fabric was tied tightly around their head, binding their eyes shut. Something was forced into their mouth, pulling their lips apart and setting their teeth on a rubber tray. Some sort of mouth guard, or something to keep them from biting their tongue off. 

“God you’re starting to sound like that dickhead. I’m starting to hear his stupid voice in my dreams with all the time I have to be around him.” 

Lane’s ears perked up.  _ He’s alive _ , Lane thought,  _ Wade Wilson is alive _ . The thought didn’t last for very much longer as Angel flipped a final switch and a sharp jolt of electricity arced through the gray matter of their brain. Muscles convulsing, back arching off the chair, full jolt of electricity straight to the brain. This was stronger than all the stun guns and cattle prods that the guards favored during routine torture. This was...over. It was over, just as soon as it started. Lane breathed out heavily through their nose, flexing their fingers. 

_ Wade Wilson is alive.  _ Another jolt, stronger this time, burning beneath closed eyelids, felt all the way down to their toes. Gritted teeth so hard that their jaw was beginning to hurt. Not thinking about the pain made it worse, thinking made it worse. Every nerve was screaming for mercy, muscles spasming as electricity coursed through them. 

_ Wade Wilson _ . Another. Coming harder and faster, no time to catch their breath between the jolts. More and more, faster and with greater intensity, no time to brace for it. Lane wanted to scream, to cry, but could do nothing but shake as their nerves were alight with electricity. 

_ Wade. _ Another. The hardest so far, head slamming against the table with enough force to make the chair wobble. The hair on their temples was starting to smolder. Muscles and bones pulled so tight they were sure something would break. 

Darkness. Light. Somebody removing the blindfold and the rubber mouth guard, drool being wiped away from their chin. Given an injection and being led down a hall, feet moving on their own accord with no recognition that they were moving. Shoved into a room. Darkness again. Alone again.

... _ Who’s Wade? _

* * *

The overhead lights flickered to life as Ajax hit the door release and opened up the padded cell. He stepped inside and looked around. After a thorough decontamination, the now useless asteroids removed, it wasn’t a horrible room. Granted, it was still a padded cell housing a genetically mutated weapon, but not horrible. A sink had been installed once they could be assured Lane wouldn’t try to drown themselves in it, and a small chemical toilet was off to the side. By means of The Workshop, this was a luxury suite.

“Big day today, how are we feeling?” 

From the far corner Lane looked up at Ajax, tilting their head to the side. They were huddled into a corner, knees pulled up to their chest. All of their hair had grown back, shaved down into a close crop. Their flimsy medical gown had been replaced with a grey t-shirt and beige sweatpants. Prison clothes. Lane’s body had evolved from sickly to somewhat toned, not overburdened with muscle but enough to add strength to their lithe frame. They looked better, proper nutrition and a rigorous training schedule had seen to that, but their eyes were still far away. 

“What’s today?” They asked tonelessly, face devoid of all emotion. Memory had become a difficult skill for Lane to grasp as of late, names and dates slipping through the cracks and becoming lost like coins between couch cushions. Anything not on the regular schedule (wakeup - train - eat - train - sleep - repeat) was often forgotten. 

“Graduation day, the day you get to leave here.” Ajax announced, stepping aside to let the guards come in. Lane was hoisted onto their feet and pushed outside of the cell, bare feet cold against the concrete. Ajax hadn’t bothered with strapping Lane in as of late, they had become docile in light of their recent memory loss. More than docile, downright  _ obedient _ with the additional mental reconditioning. 

“Oh.” Lane’s brow furrowed. “Did I do good?” 

“You could say that. You’re going to be making your benefactor very happy.”

“What am I going to be doing for him?” 

Ajax turned and smiled coldly at them, still walking forward. “Not asking questions, for one thing.” 

A door was opened and Lane had to shield their eyes from the brightness, hiding their face in their arms to stop the assault of new smells other than piss and blood that had surrounded them for so long. Dirt under their feet instead of hard concrete or a padded cell. Birds, sunlight, clouds and...a helicopter?

Angel was standing beside it, alongside an older gentleman and his entourage of armed guards. At the sight of Lane, they aimed their rifles at them.

“Gentlemen, there will be no need for that.” Ajax stepped forward, spreading out his arms in a welcoming gesture. “The subject is completely docile, come see for yourself.” 

Turning on his heel, Ajax swung and hit Lane square in the jaw. Lane stumbled but didn’t fall, and didn’t make a sound or any indication that they had been bothered by the sudden assault. Like a puppy that had just been whacked by a newspaper for messing on the carpet. Ajax turned back to the crowd as Lane got to their feet. Angel rolled her eyes and came to stand behind Ajax, one eye trained one Lane. Just in case. 

“An advanced healing factor, radiation absorption, and the party trick.” He pulled an apple from his pocket and tossed it from hand to hand. “Subject, give them a demonstration.” 

Ajax tossed the apple high into the air as Lane raised a single, glowing hand. The familiar push of energy could be felt, much smaller this time compared to the larger blast several months earlier, and a single beam of energy blasted the apple. Ashes rained onto the ground. 

“There you have it gentlemen.” 

“Impressive,” The older man shouted, making his way towards the two, assisted by a walking cane topped with a large jewel. He was deathly pale, dark haired and tall. He wore sunglasses in the harsh daylight. “Robert Windsor, I’m pleased to finally meet you.” He stuck out a pale hand, only to receive a blank stare from Lane.

“You’ll have to excuse her social skills,” Ajax explained, forcibly grabbing Lane’s hand and putting it into Windsor’s. “She’s not exactly a social butterfly.”

“No matter. What’s more important is what she’ll be doing for me. I trust the payment has been situated?” 

Ajax nodded. Satisfied, Windsor tightened his grip on Lane’s hand and led them away. The helicopter’s blades began to turn, blowing up dirt and debris, and Lane turned their head to avoid getting an eyeful of dirt. In doing so they caught a glimpse of the outside of The Workshop. A dilapidated old warehouse, nothing special about it. Had they been of a sounder mind, they might have found it ironic that something so evil could look so normal on the outside. But right now, the only thing their mind could focus on was how the dirt felt underneath their feet. Had dirt always felt like this? They couldn’t remember. They couldn’t remember a lot of things right now.

Ajax and Angel and a handful of guards watched as Lane ascended the steps of the helicopter, and continued to watch as it lifted into the sky and out of sight. 

“They grow up so fast.” Angel said, chewing on the matchstick between her teeth thoughtfully. She smirked, a look mirrored by Ajax before he turned back to The Workshop.

“Right. Back to work. I just had an idea for Wilson.” 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is it, the last chapter in this origin-story saga. There will be more stories coming later and I hope you all have enjoyed the ride so far!

Hank had whisked Lane back into his lab, running through the matrix of tests and scans in record time. Piotr had taken a seat outside after depositing Lane on a proper exam table, the Professor and Wade soon joining him after a brief passage of time. Wade was quieter than usual, and only attempted to sneak into Hank’s lab once before he was caught and scolded. Piotr had to wonder what the Professor had said to him to make him so complacent for the time being. 

“Well, aside from some vitamin deficiencies, they appear to be completely healthy.” Hank said, coming out of the medical wing and ushering them all into the lab with a blue hand. He turned and pulled up several x-rays, placing them on the light board where they were backlit with fluorescent light. Sections of Lane’s spine, their skull, and both of their hands. 

“It would appear that their mutation includes a healing factor, which would explain how they were able to hold their own against Colossus. What’s more concerning are the scars - the star pattern on their palms, it appears wherever scar tissue would normally be. And, to speak frankly, there are several places on their body where it looks like an entire galaxy of surgical scars.” 

“Sounds like somebody was trying to play Operation.” Wade grumbled under his breath.

Hank pushed a piece of blue fur out of his face and leaned against the counter. “So, what exactly is the next phase of action once they wake up?”

“Jean and I will start working on their memory restoration,” The Professor replied. “With any luck, something surfaces that can lead Mr. Wilson to their former employer. And if not, at the very least we can give them the semblance of a normal life once again.” 

Hank sighed, looking down at his feet. “That may be easier said than done, Charles.” 

“C’mon fuzzy-wuzzy, lay it down for us. How bad is it?” Wade asked.

“Wade,” Piotr warned, but Hank continued on regardless. 

“It’s not only a matter of restoring lost memories, it’s a matter of treating a complex mental illness on top of that.” Hank replied, clearly annoyed but keeping his voice on an official ‘Doctor’ level. “Just thinking logically here - they’ve been socially isolated for a number of years, experimented on, trained to quite literally be a killing machine - I’d personally be surprised if they didn’t have some form of PTSD beyond the lost memories. Getting them back to any semblance of what we consider to be normal would require time and effort, therapy, and most likely some form of medication as well.” 

The gravity of his statement sank into the room like a dense fog. The occupants at the mansion were no strangers to mental illness in its various forms- either as a direct result of trauma or just from being in a house that happened to explode every odd month - but it never got any easier to receive the news. Even as a complete stranger, Piotr’s heart broke for Lane.

“They have been through so much,” Piotr finally said, his voice low in his throat but determined, “but we are X-men, and owe it to them to try.”

“There’s the shiny boy scout I know and love!” Wade crowed, clapping his hands together. “Besides, nobody knows PTSD like Wade Wilson.” 

“My sentiments exactly, Piotr.” The Professor said. “Hank, if you wouldn’t mind preparing a bed for them here in the medical lab for the time being, I’m going to be calling a meeting of our staff to further discuss. Gentlemen, we should leave him to his work. We shall meet in my office in one hour.” 

* * *

The hour passed quickly, the three of them dispersing from the medical wing, the majority of it spent by Piotr trying to find Wade after he had bolted from the medical wing. He had yelled something about ‘imparting wisdom on the students’ that made Piotr’s stomach turn, but no such luck with finding him.

The mood was tense when Piotr filed into the Professor’s office along with Ororo and Scott behind him. Ellie and Yukio came in next, followed by Logan who brought up the rear and shut the door behind him.This was the main team, although technically Ellie and Yukio were still trainees; Piotr went to stand next to Ellie, a bit of pride in his chest that his trainee was getting to be included in such important meetings alongside him. 

“Thank you all for meeting with me.” The professor said, a calming wave washing over the room as he spoke. He had that effect on people. “I’m aware that you all are busy, but we must discuss the matter at hand and our plan to approach it.”

“No problem Professor cueball,” Deadpool’s voice rang out, shattering the calmness. Piotr turned to find him lounging on one of the plush couches the Professor kept in his office, his shoes and katanas placed on the floor in front of him. Despite his best efforts, Wade had managed to evade him. “Do they get a demerit for being tardy?” Wade asked, pointing at the group with a bare toe. “Hi Yukio!”

“Oh, god,” Ellie groaned, her girlfriend giving Wade a friendly wave. 

“What’s he still doing here?” Scott asked, frustration evident in his voice.

“Mr. Wilson and our new guest have a shared history, I thought it wise to have him here with us.” The Professor explained, not looking all too happy at the admission. 

“Yeah, they’re both criminals!”

Wade leapt from his seat and rounded on Scott, who took a step backward. “Easy NSYNC reject, they didn’t know what they were doing.”

“Mr. Wilson, please calm yourself,” The Professor said.

“And I thought the jolly silver giant was bad.” Wade grumbled, resuming his seat on the couch. “So, what’s the 411? Is that what the kids are saying these days? Or are you all too busy having group orgies to notice -” 

“Wade, please.” Piotr sighed, cutting him off before he had the chance to get any more vulgar. “We have same goal, helping your friend.” 

The Professor continued, ever patient despite the antics of Wade. “As you all have been made aware, this afternoon there was an attempted chemical attack outside the city, and through the combined forces of X-Force and a impromptu team, the attacker was subdued and brought to the mansion. It was found that they were a victim of The Workshop along with Mr. Wilson, and beyond that, were unable to exercise any free will. They are just as much a victim of this situation as any one of us could be -” a pointed look was sent in Scott’s direction,“- and should be treated as such.” 

“How bad is it?” Ororo asked. She always was the most nurturing of the team, and Piotr was glad to have her there.

“We’re not sure. I sent Jean with Hank, trying to sort through whatever memories are left. They’re jumbled at best, and at worse it’s evident that they’ve been through a great deal. Both at the hands of those who activated their mutation and whoever they were employed by.”

“Sounds familiar,” Logan said gruffly. “Do we have anything on the employer?

“We’ve been trying to trace the gear that we pulled off of them, but nothing’s come up yet. It’s custom made, high quality stuff.” Ellie affirmed, her arms across her chest. “Whoever they are, they have some serious cash and aren’t shy about spending it.” 

“Especially if it was all going to get blown to bits.” Yukio chimed in. “If they succeeded.” 

“Let me guess, they’re memory was wiped after every mission?” Logan asked. The Professor nodded. “Christ, it’s a wonder their brains aren’t like scrambled eggs.”

“So why do they remember him?” Scott asked, sending a pointed glare over in Wade’s direction. 

Wade scoffed. “Have you met me? I’m unforgettable, four eyes.” 

_ He has a point _ , Piotr thought. Wade did leave quite the impression on people, whether they wanted him to or not. The Professor sighed and tried to steer the conversation back on track.

“While their brain isn’t exactly like ‘scrambled eggs’ as Logan so colorfully put it, it is incredibly fragile. Jean and I will be working to try and restore as much of it as we can, but it will be a long and painful process.The process of restoring one’s memories can be complicated at best, and dangerous at worst. I’m asking all of you to be as gentle as you can with them, knowing their background.”

“Are we sure that we even want them here with the students around? Can we be sure that they aren’t dangerous?” Scott questioned, his tone borderline accusatory. While he had a point, several pairs of eyes rolled in response. 

“Says the guy who blows up an entire school if he loses his glasses. Why don’t you get one of those strap thingies that suburban dads wear?” Wade retorted. 

“Gentlemen please,” The Professor. “You raise a genuine concern, Scott, which is why part of our treatment will be socialization with senior staff members. Once they have been medically cleared, we will be implementing a visitation schedule, in which they will be chaperoned until we can be sure that they aren’t a harm to themself or others.” 

“Sounds like babysitting to me,” Logan grumbled. “What are we supposed to do with her anyways?”

“ _ Them _ , Logan. And any of you can opt out of this if you’d like, but they’re not unlike you whenever you first arrived here.” The Professor replied. “And to answer your question, I’m asking you to treat them like you would a new student, essentially - try to find commonalities. Make them feel like they belong. The mental reconditioning they’ve undergone has severely limited their social skills, as well as impaired their cognitive thinking.” 

“Well that all sounds fine and dandy, but what happens after all of that kumbaya shit ends?” Wade asked. “You just keep them locked up like Wolvie here?” 

Logan turned, his brows pulled down into a deep look of contempt. “You wanna run that by me again, bub?” 

“That’s entirely up to Lane.” The Professor quickly added, trying to disperse the growing tension between the two men.“They’re welcome to stay as long as they’d like, but we have no intention of keeping them against their will.” 

“He is right, Wade. Nobody here is staying against their will,” Piotr said, trying to keep his voice soft and even. “We are here because we want to help.” 

“I even took the liberty of putting you on the visiting schedule for Lane, Mr. Wilson.” The professor added, holding up a piece of paper from his desk. “Provided of course, you’d be able to behave yourself inside the house around the other students.” 

“I have an invite to the X-Mansion sex club? I might cry.” Wade sniffed. “Oh man, does this mean I’m invited to the official team slumber parties?” He exclaimed, springing up from his seat. “When do I get the official tattoo? I really hope it’s a tramp stamp like Scotty has.” 

“Jesus.” Ellie groaned, while Scott turned almost as red as his visor. 

“That will be all we’re needing from you Mr. Wilson, you’re free to go.” 

“Aw, already? But we were having so much fun.” Wade pouted. “Well, if you insist.” Wade stood, taking his shoes in one hand and his weapons in the other. “You guys have cab fare? My guy’s been waiting outside for like, an hour with the meter running. No? I’ll put it on my tab. Bye Yukio!” 

Wade exited the room and, with an obnoxious crash of something being knocked over out in the hallway, left the mansion. Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief at his departure.

“That could have gone...smoother.” Ororo mumbled, placing a hand to her temple to massage away a headache. “I need to get ready for my next class, excuse me.” She left the room with a swish of her white hair. 

“Could have gone worse also.” Piotr offered, grateful he hadn’t had to pull anyone apart for the duration of the meeting. Ellie nodded, saying a quick goodbye as she and Yukio had to get ready for class.

“Are you sure it’s wise to allow him to be in the house?” Scott asked after Ellie and Yukio left the room. “Around the kids? He’s a bad influence.”

The Professor sighed, and for a moment Piotr could see the older man’s age weighing on his shoulders. “It wasn’t an easy decision, but he’s the only one that Lane feels that they can fully trust at the moment. With any luck, that trust will extend to us, and we’ll have a better chance at helping them.” 

“A lot of things could go wrong with this.” Logan mumbled. “There’s no guarantee that this kid will  _ want  _ our help.”

“For once, that’s something we can actually agree on.” Scott said, “I’m going to go check on Jean.” 

Scott left the room, Logan lingering for a minute later before turning and walking out the door as well. Then it was just Piotr and the Professor. 

“I find it amusing that you were the only one to be physically attacked, and yet you seem to be their biggest supporter, Piotr. Beside Mr. Wilson, of course.”

Piotr shrugged, “The way they fought, it was like...they didn’t care whether they lived or died. They just kept coming.” He frowned, looking down at his hands, thinking of how just hours ago they had been punching the very person who now laid in the medical wing several floors below.. “I think of Wade, what he is going through, seeing his friend like this. What he could have been like if same thing happened to him. What any of us could be like.” 

“It’s a frightening reality that we have to live through. Mutant soldiers are becoming less and less common with the destruction of places like The Workshop, and yet they’re still out there. Most of the time they end up in the Icebox, or worse.” The Professor wheeled out from behind his desk and put his hand on Piotr’s. “I won’t pretend it’s going to be easy to do so, but we will do everything in our power to help them.”

“ _ Da _ ,” Piotr nodded, moving to go out the door. “We will.”

The Professor was now alone. He let out a deep sigh, his face falling while Hank’s earlier sentiment bounced around his head.

_ Easier said than done. _


End file.
